Lessons in Coitus
by chromeknickers
Summary: Everyone at Hogwarts has been led to believe that Draco Malfoy is sex personified, the Slytherin Casanova-cum-Marquis de Sade. What if Draco has never had carnal relations? Whom could he turn to for advice? D/G implied.


**Disclaimer**: a snippet of dialogue from the Rome series has been altered and spliced into a part of a conversation between Draco and Blaise – parts of these quotes are the property of Bruno Heller, not mine.

**A/N**: This one-shot was inspired by the famous brief exchange of dialogue between Titus Pullo and Lucius Vorenus from the series _Rome_, in which Pullo proffers sexual and romantic advice to Vorenus. In this HP version, Draco confronts Blaise Zabini, and, as manly as he can, solicits advice from the golden-eyed Slytherin.

Also, there are many Muggle references in this story (this is not canon-based at all).

Written for **Roma** (Cadaverous Apples).

**Lessons in Coitus**

Reputation is important, nay, it is crucial – crucial to survival in the House of Slytherin. To have made a name for oneself by being merciless, cunning, deceptive, resourceful, manipulative, and capable was a _good _reputation; it was sterling. Draco Malfoy had _that _kind of notoriety. He had also, over the years, acquired a reputation for being something altogether different: a ladies' man.

Draco would never dispel these rumours. Why should he? Being referred to as a Casanova-cum-Marquis de Sade gave him an extra swag in his swagger (not that he knew who this bloody Casanova-cum-Marquis de Sade character was). Should some silly Puffles want to run about the school spreading gossip about how he wasn't just some _pinky's-more-than-enough _kind of wizard (whatever _that _meant) then let them. The compliments, innuendos, blushing cheeks, and awe-filled stares they gave him just added to his already impressive prestige.

He was content to let them all think that he was shagging every girl in his House (and Ravenclaw to boot). No one would ever contradict it. All the named girls were more than willing to play along, letting everyone think just that – that they had _mounted_ the elusive dragon. Everyone's vanity was catered to. No harm was done. The issue never needed to be addressed. Until now.

Now the matter was quite pressing. You see, Draco had taken a lover. The identity of his paramour was a secret, not just because it was within his character to hide a love affair from prying eyes (or because his lover was a male—because he wasn't! She! _She _wasn't!), but because his lover was a Gryffindor – Ginevra Weasley to be exact.

How had this come to pass? A complex and complicated story one would assume but, in actuality, not so much. They had simply found each other one lonely, drunken night at the Astronomy Tower. He had consumed a copious amount of Greenwood's Oak-brewed Fire Whiskey, and she had … well, he forgot what she had (something undoubtedly cheap and highly flammable).

What they had been drinking or how either had managed to stumble their way up the labyrinth of stairs to happen upon each other at that precise point in time is inconsequential (he had a funny feeling that Blaise had told him that the Ravenclaw girls liked to go up there and have pillow fights – naked pillow fights). What matters for this story is that he stumbled upon the She-Weasel and, in his drunken stupor, found her attractive, and she him. They ended up snogging all night into the wee hours of morning and, once sober, still found each other attractive and tolerable enough. The element of secrecy and the off chance of them being caught (and he being beaten within an inch of his life by her brood of a family) added a bit of spice to their 'relationship'.

It was now time to spice it up a bit more; it was time to consummate it. She was dropping subtle hints (getting naked in front of him, fishing Draco 'junior' out of his trousers). You know, 'small' stuff. He had quickly caught on and wondered what exactly he was going to do. Yes, he actually wanted to shag the little She-Weasel. A disgusting notion, undoubtedly, but, in all honestly, he was a teenage boy with typical teenage hormones, and she was a rather fetching-looking Weasel. Oh, and she was eager. Very eager. (E for Effort eager!)

He wanted nothing more than to have a go with the spunky little Gryffindor, but his inexperience coupled with his infamy made it rather difficult to seal the deal. What if he was … you know … bad? This wouldn't help his reputation at all. He would be branded a cold fish or something much more depressing-sounding. While he did want to please the little redhead, sexually, he wanted to maintain his sexual prowess, and he couldn't very well do that if he didn't know how to fit cylinder A into slot B, now could he? (He wondered, absently, if mathematical or geometric terms could apply here). It was time for drastic measures. It was time to consult a specialist.

**xXx**

"Someone better bloody well be dead, Draco!" Blaise Zabini growled at the grey-eyed blond, who had artfully dragged him away from a gorgeous raven-haired Slytherin whom he had been steadily advancing towards second base with before Malfoy had intervened.

"I need your advice," Draco solicited quietly and guardedly as he pulled the taller dark-haired boy into one of the corners of the Slytherin common room.

"You drag me away from Easy Elena to ask for advice?" Blaise enquired with open incredulity in his voice. "I was about to pop her bonnet and get a gander of her shiny bits!" he whined in an almost petulant manner. Almost.

"I need," Draco began, his voice low, and his eyes murderously glinting, "you to tell me how to … _please _a woman."

Draco glared menacingly at the golden-eyed boy, who swallowed somewhat nervously, trying desperately not to laugh in his mate's face.

"Right," Blaise responded slowly. "You're having some kind of sport with me right now, yeah? Taking the piss?" The tall Slytherin chuckled out loud and then noticed that his friend was not laughing along with him. He immediately stopped and leaned forward. "Mate, you have a reputation for being a bigger Lothario than myself!"

Draco's scowl pulled in some overtime, and he managed to look even more dangerous and threatening.

"I know!" he hissed, glaring at a first year who had inadvertently strolled within fifty metres of them, caught Malfoy's death stare, and then ran away, petrified. "Listen, just tell me how to cater to a woman's desires!"

The two managed to go back and forth, whispering loudly to one another. Blaise, eagerly wanting to humiliate his mate, proffered different techniques and styles for the grey-eyed blond to use while Draco tried desperately not to _Obliviate_ everyone in the room.

"Also, _very_ important," Blaise stated with great emphasis, and Draco leaned in closer. "When you couple with her, there is a spot just above her cunny." He motioned with his fingers. "Now attend to this button, and she will open up like a flower."

Draco snapped his head back and glared menacingly at the golden-eyed boy. "How do you know _this_ about her!" he hissed just above a whisper.

The ordinarily unflappable Zabini took a step back and looked anxiously about the room in a vain attempt to solicit aid from his fellow Slytherins who were nowhere close by.

"All women have them, Draco!" he exclaimed. "Ask anyone!"

Draco stood up straight and scowled once more, still looking unconvinced. The dark-skinned Slytherin had told him several ways in which to please and satisfy Ginny, and he hoped that they would work. Somewhat satisfied, he inclined his head slightly towards his mate and looked around the room to find it empty.

"Is that all?" Blaise asked the blond, smiling somewhat smugly to himself.

Who knew that Draco Malfoy was not everything that everyone was led to believe.

"You have been most invaluable, Blaise," Draco replied, thanking him. "Just one more thing."

Blaise looked down at Draco expectantly and then blenched when he saw the wand in his mate's hand, pointed straight at him.

"_Obliviate_!"

**FIN**


End file.
